


Cuddles Cure Insecurities. It's Science

by ToriBeth



Series: Johnlock Vignettes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Fulff, Insecure!John, Insecure!Sherlock, M/M, a teeny bit, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2142666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriBeth/pseuds/ToriBeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was almost like he’d seen what kind of boyfriend material John was a decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. Which pretty much sucked because John was still completely infatuated with his best friend."</p><p>Now it's John's turn to sweat about their budding relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuddles Cure Insecurities. It's Science

**Author's Note:**

> Second installment!!! Really, this took longer than it should have but in my defense I was trying to force my first draft and it just wasn't happening. This simplified version flows better and jives more with my versions of Sherly and John. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine, no beta, no brit pick. And to the glory be ACD and Moftiss for inspiring this little fic.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

John surreptitiously glanced at the boy across from him for what felt like the twentieth time in half and hour. 

They were in John’s room studying for a history exam tomorrow. Not that Sherlock would even need to study if he had bothered to retain anything they’d read or been lectured about in the past week. John, on the other hand, detested history and failed to learn anything the first time around, despite the vigorous note-taking and hours spent at tutoring.

“No,” Sherlock was suddenly in his space, pointing out a mistake John was currently transferring onto flash cards. “It certainly wasn’t the Black Widow who brought Russia to economic ruin during World War I. Surely you meant /Nicholas/ Romanoff. Are you even paying attention, John?”

“You don’t even read comic books,” John grumbled, scrubbing out the wrong information and fighting down the urge to place a quick peck on the cheek that was tantalizingly close. 

“Wrong, I read them over your shoulder when you're ignoring me.” Sherlock took the rest of John’s completed deck, throwing out the ones out that were incorrect. “That was almost a third of them. Honestly, what are you doing?”

John rubbed a spot on his cheek where one of the index cards had stabbed him and stood up. “I’m going for a tea break, do you want anything?”

Sherlock just hm’ed and turned back to his text book.

While the kettle boiled, John tried to clear his head. It was obvious that Sherlock was not interested. Despite how well their movie date- date? -had gone. 

Was that even a date? John had been over this same conversation countless times in the week since their...outing. It had been odd, to be sure. German cinema followed by a shoddy-but-excellent Jamaican place where the owner seemed to owe Sherlock a debt over a kidnapped niece (whatever that meant). But he had expected it to be, with Sherlock taking control and planning everything. 

Which was another thing. Sherlock had been the one to ask John out and now he was acting as if nothing had even happened. Maybe he had been shy for the two days after, but John gave some space and he calmed down. 

Completely calmed down. No more blushing at John’s compliments or stammering when John beamed at him. He hadn’t tried to initiate anything after holding hands (which, despite being so chaste, John had considered pretty intense). It was almost like he’d seen what kind of boyfriend material John was a decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. Which pretty much sucked because John was still completely infatuated with his best friend.

Grabbing a sleeve of biscuits to go with the tea, he made his back up stairs. 

“I didn’t know how to interpret that ‘hm’ so I made you a cup anyway.” John paused in the doorway, but recovered quickly, setting one cup on his nightstand for Sherlock and folded himself back down onto the floor.

While he had been making tea and questioning his apparently unrequited crush on the best and most brilliant person he had ever known, said person had climbed up onto his bed and was lounging with his head propped on John’s pillow, studying just as intently as he had been when John left. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes- tense on John’s end, he hadn’t even tried to read anything -before Sherlock rolled over, his back to John.

Make yourself comfortable, whay don’t you, John grumbled to himself, trying not to think about how his pillow was going to smell like Sherlock tonight and for possibly days later. That shampoo he used was ridiculously great-smelling. Or maybe that was Sherlock own Sherlock scent?

“John, would you come take a look at this?” Sherlock asked, not bother to turn over.

“What is it?” 

“Just come look,” his friend snapped impatiently, but when John stood up, Sherlock didn’t turn over.

“I can’t come look if I can’t see the bloody thing.”

Sherlock’s shoulders heaved with a world weary sigh, “Just lean over, I’m comfortable.”

“You really are impossible,” John mutter, out loud this time, and climbed into his knees. “What is it? Sherlock, you’re basically hunched over the damn thing-”

Suddenly he was on his back, Sherlock pinning him down, and he could see why Sherlock had refused to turn over. His face was flushed and pinched like it had been when John arrived late for their date. 

“What the hell, Sher-”

“Why haven’t you done anything?” Sherlock snapped.

John blinked up at him. “Why haven’t- What are you talking about? I /haven’t/ done anything!”

Those silver eye searched his face intently, looking for something John wasn’t sure how to express. “You-” Sherlock huffed and sat back on his heels, staring at the floor. “If you didn’t want...you should have just said so.” 

The expression of absolute pain on Sherlock’s face felt like a punch the gut. “Didn’t want what?”

“This,” Sherlock snapped, waving his hand rapidly between the two of them. “Us. Together. You should have just said something before I got my hopes up. But then again maybe you didn’t know- just hanging out with a mate, was it? Something I’m sure you do all the time with your friends.” He ran his hand roughly across his face and made to move. “I think I should be leaving n-”

“No!” John grabbed Sherlock’s wrist. “No, I knew! I don’t do that for just-friends, Sherlock. I don’t buy them gifts that made me think about them or hold their hands for entire two hours, or trust them when they promise that creepy alleys ends in the best Jerk chicken I’ll ever taste. Just you.”

The other boy still refused to look at him. “Then why haven’t you /done/ anything?” He repeated, tone low and wary .

“I-I,” John blinked at him again. “I don’t know. I just thought you liked calling the shots. But then you backed off and I thought you saw I wasn’t what you initially thought and-”

Once again he found himself pinned on his back by Sherlock Holmes, but this time with the other’s arms around his neck, face pushed under his chin. “You really aren’t the most luminous of people, John.” Sherlock’s voice sound tight, if a bit muffled.

“So I’ve been told,” and despite the insult, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pressed them as close together as possible. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and if you've followed over from the first installment thank for you all of you kudos, comments, and bookmarks. My first little fic may not be that successful compare to some, but it garnered a lot more love than I could have anticipated.
> 
> Again, feel free to point out any mistakes I've made or join me on tumbler at vicvangogh.tumblr.com


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